<!DOCTYPE HTML>
<html lang="en-CA">
    <head>
        <title>Christian Droulers :: Suspicion</title>
        <link rel="stylesheet" href="/stylesheets/style.css" media="screen" type="text/css">
        <link rel="stylesheet" href="/stylesheets/style.print.css" media="print" type="text/css">
        <link rel="openid.server" href="https://www.google.com/accounts/o8/ud" />
        <link rel="openid.delegate" href="https://plus.google.com/102046524498192574412" />
        <link rel="openid2.local_id" href="https://plus.google.com/102046524498192574412" />
        <link rel="openid2.provider" href="https://www.google.com/accounts/o8/ud" />
        <meta http-equiv="X-XRDS-Location" content="https://www.google.com/accounts/o8/id" />
        
        <script type="text/javascript" src="/scripts/ga.js"></script>
    </head>
    <body class="writings single">
        <header>
            <h1>Christian Droulers</h1>
            <h2>Agile and flexible programmer</h2>
        </header>
        <nav>
            <ul>
                <li><a href="/">Presentation</a></li>
                <li><a href="/projects/">Projects</a></li>
                <li><a href="/cv/">Curriculum Vitae</a></li>
                <li><a href="/writings/">Writings</a></li>
                <li><a href="/articles/">Articles</a></li>
            </ul>
        </nav>
        <section id="content">
            <h2>Suspicion</h2>

<p><aside><del datetime="2009-10-16T23:15:00Z">This is a work in progress. More will be added as I
write.</del> Bleh. This sucks. I quit it.</aside></p>

<p>It's funny how it's hard to decide which thoughts are crazy and which are
not. Every morning I wake up and it's something different. Most of the time, I
can brush it aside, rationalizing it and subsequently, ignoring it. But there's
always a nagging one. A thought that, for some reason, likes to
linger in my mind. It stays while I get up, while I shower, while I munch on my
breakfast. If I'm lucky, work makes it vanish. Too busy crunching numbers,
letters and code to worry about silly morning thoughts.</p>

<p>It seems it's different this time. The same thoughts have been assaulting my
brain more and more often. Prickly little bastards invading my consistency,
poking at my very being, probing my beliefs and my knowledge. It's even been
bothering me at work. People glance at me, I notice it more now. I used to
dismiss it: <q>It's impossible. Those people can't be all looking at me all the
time. I must be crazy.</q></p>

<p>I mean, I know I lie. I lie all the time. It's never with bad intentions,
really. I just like to keep a facade around me, make sure all my bases are
covered. Sometimes I feel bad about it. Sometimes, it hurts me. Other times, it
hurts someone else. I've lied about almost everything so far. I haven't cheated
on her though. I would never. But that's not the point.</p>

<p>The point is that what if I wasn't the only one. What if? I don't doubt for
even a second that everybody lies, some probably more than myself. But what if
<em>she</em> were lying? About everything? It's insane, I know it. I don't even
have to think about it. But the thoughts remain. Every morning for a few days
now, she's been the sole person nagging at my certainties. She could be lying
about anything. Who knows what she's thinking. I can't keep ignoring these
gut feelings I get in the morning. Whether she's still sleeping beside me or if
she's already up, lathering her perfect body in soap.</p>

<hr>

<p>I know I shouldn't be here. I know where she's going. It's Wednesday, she's
going to her German class. Why would she do anything else? Why would she lie
about such a banal thing? She'll turn left on Second Street, and stop a few
houses down. Why am I still following her? She's not going anywhere unusual,
she's not meeting anyone I don't know. Wait. Who's this? Who is she kissing on
the cheeks? Who is this woman she's walking up stairs with? What address is
this?</p>

<p>It's hard to be subtle when peering into someone's home. I can see through
the small opening of the curtains. They are in the kitchen, laughing. Is she
cheating on me... with a woman? Why would she do such at thing? Where did I go
wrong? I've been doing my best to be attentionate, nice and romantic with her.
I've worked my hardest in bed. It always seemed to be satisfying for her as
well. What else could she be looking for in someone else? Wait, now they're
sitting, taking out books, German books!</p>

<p>As I walk home, I hit myself interiorily. How can I be so dumb? How can I
even doubt her for a second? She's never shown any signs of betrayal. She loves
me! And I love her! I take out my cellphone and text her <q>I love you
honey!</q> It doesn't take any of the guilt away, but I can rationalize a sense
of satisfaction.</p>

<div id="disqus_thread"></div>

<script>
    var disqus_shortname = "cdroulers";
    var disqus_identifier = "/writings/suspicion";
    var disqus_url = 'http://cdroulers.com/writings/suspicion/';
    (function() {
        var dsq = document.createElement('script'); dsq.async = true;
        dsq.src = '//' + disqus_shortname + '.disqus.com/embed.js';
        (document.getElementsByTagName('head')[0] || document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0]).appendChild(dsq);
    })();
</script>

<noscript>Please enable JavaScript to view the <a href="http://disqus.com/?ref_noscript">comments powered by Disqus.</a></noscript>

<p><a href="http://disqus.com" class="dsq-brlink">comments powered by <span class="logo-disqus">Disqus</span></a></p>

        </section>
        
        <footer>
            © <a href="mailto:webmaster@cdroulers.com">Christian Droulers</a> 2013 | <a href="https://code.google.com/p/cdroulers-website/source/browse/">Source</a>
        </footer>
    </body>
</html>